


Handful

by sharkie335



Series: The 'ful series [5]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: BDSM, Fisting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 19:52:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie335/pseuds/sharkie335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was going to work himself into a fit if he couldn't find a way to calm down.  Thankfully, he knew a way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handful

Hands shaking, Rodney knocked on the door to John's room. Carson had conspired with Elizabeth to cut off his supply of coffee in an effort to get him to go to bed, and caffeine withdrawal combined with the let down from the adrenaline rush to make him unable to focus on anything. At least this time he hadn't been wired on uppers - the situation hadn't been as dire as the _first_ time the Wraith had attacked, but still, with making sure that the cloak worked and trying to get the weapons systems on line, he'd only slept a handful of hours in the last few days.

They'd survived. Somehow, they'd survived. Atlantis still stood; they had only lost a handful of people. Rodney kept repeating that to himself as he knocked again on John's door. He was going to work himself into a fit if he couldn't find a way to calm down. Thankfully, he knew a way.

John opened the door, looking completely unsurprised to see him. "Come on in, Rodney," he said, opening his door wide.

Rodney moved past him, waited impatiently for the door to close, and then grabbed for John, clutching at the black t-shirt. "Please, John. I can't - "

"Can't?" John said, but Rodney just shook his head and clung harder. He couldn't say it. Couldn't even think it. All he could think was that John could make it better.

Taking Rodney's hand in his own, John patiently untangled the clutching fingers from the material of his shirt. "Shh. You can't sleep, can you?" Rodney shook his head, and John smiled, that smile that made Rodney want to kiss him and hit him at the same time. "I can fix that. But you need to calm down and let me do it, okay?"

Rodney took a deep breath and smoothed the material beneath his hand. "Okay. Okay. I can do that. I _can_," he insisted to the look of gentle disbelief on John's face. The expression didn't change, but Rodney felt more relaxed already. Knowing that John was going to take care of him took a huge pressure off.

"Take your clothes off." John stepped back, crossing his arms in front of him, and said nothing else as Rodney eagerly stripped out of BDUs that were stiffened with fear-sweat. When he was naked, he hesitated, unsure of what to do with his arms, but John took mercy on him and nodded towards the bathroom. "Shower. Hot as you can stand it."

Rodney went without questioning. Atlantis always had hot water for her favorite son, and he stepped into a cubicle already filling with steam. The heat and the water combined to relax him even as the sweat-stink swirled away down the drain. He snorted at the fancy shampoo, but he didn't hesitate to use it, and nothing had felt as good as soap working lather over his skin.

His cock was hard long before he got there, but he resisted the urge to jack himself. He had something much better than his hand waiting in the other room, and there was no reason, other than stubborn habit, for him to get himself off to a lonely climax.

By the time he rinsed off and stepped out to the warm blast of air that Atlantis used instead of towels, he was much more relaxed, less manic. He knew that if he left now, though, he'd be right back to manic. And while he was afraid of what John might do to him, he was much more afraid of what he might do the city in his exhaustion if he didn't get some sleep.

He went back out into John's quarters, only to find that he'd been busy while Rodney was in the shower. He'd turned the bed so that it was lengthwise against the wall, and he sat on it, his back against the wall. Rodney took all this in, then noticed the lack - there were no ropes, no cuffs. Just John, sitting on the bed in a pair of cutoffs, and himself.

He started to get nervous. John had never denied him before. "John?"

"Relax and come here. I'm not going to leave you hanging." Rodney took a deep breath and padded across the room, hesitating at the edge of the bed. When John motioned for him to continue, he crawled up on the bed, taking up a position on all fours over John's legs. John ran one hand up into his hair, tugging Rodney forward and kissing him softly. Rodney opened his mouth eagerly, letting his tongue slide along John's.

The kiss lasted forever, or so it felt. By the time John brought it to an end with a soft bite to Rodney's lower lip, Rodney was ready to hump John's leg, desperate for it.

John chuckled. He gentled Rodney back and looked him in the face. "I'm not going to tie you this time. I want you to be able to move and choose not to." Rodney felt his stomach drop. He didn't know if he could do that. It must have been written on his face, because John's expression became even more determined. "You can do this, Rodney. And if you trust me, I'll make you fly."

Rodney swallowed with a mouth gone painfully dry. "What - what do you want me to do?"

He patted one hairy thigh. "Just - lie down."

It took Rodney a moment to figure out what John wanted, and then a moment more to fight the embarrassment, but eventually he was laying face down, his ass in John's lap and the rest of him stretched out along the bed. His hard on was pressed tight against John's thigh, and he squirmed, trying to deepen the contact. The sudden slap of John's hand on his ass startled him. "Hold still."

It was an effort to hold still, knowing that John was going to hurt Rodney. Usually he had ropes to pull on, cuffs to fight. Instead, all he had was his own willpower. John's left hand dropped onto the nape of his neck, massaging lightly. "You're thinking too much. All you have to do is just take it, Rodney. Don't think about it, don't worry about it. Just take it."

Rodney took a deep breath and blew it out forcefully, then another. As he drew a third one, John's other hand landed hard on his ass, knocking the air out of his lungs. "Ow!"

He didn't have time to recover, because John was spanking him in earnest, hard and fast slaps that seemed to always land on the most tender places on his ass, on his thighs. John's other hand never moved from his neck, and Rodney twisted his hands in the bedspread, holding tightly.

He was vaguely aware that John was praising him, telling him that he was a good boy, but he was focused on each slap, on not moving. He wanted to move, wanted to rock into each blow, but John had told him to stay still, and he was going to do it if it killed him. He only realized that his hips were moving when the spanking stopped and John grabbed him by the balls, tugging them hard and derailing the orgasm that he hadn't even realized was coming.

His ass burned from the spanking, but it wasn't enough. God, he _craved_ it. "Please, god, please," he begged, not even sure what he was begging _for_.

John didn't say anything. Instead, there was the soft click of the lube being opened, and then John's finger circled his opening. It slid in smoothly, and Rodney gasped. "Oh, god."

"You know, for an atheist, you invoke god an awful lot." John chuckled, that single finger moving slowly in and out of his hole. Rodney wanted to argue, but John chose that moment to press down on Rodney's prostate, and he whimpered instead. "Do you remember what I told you the first time we played with Ronon? What I told you I was going to do to you?"

Rodney tried to think, tried to remember, but John added a second finger, never speeding up. The steady pace was gradually eroding Rodney's control, and he clutched at the blanket harder. "Rodney?" John's voice was a growl, giving him warning that he was still being expected to answer.

But it was only as John's left hand slipped under him, squeezing and rolling his nipple, that he remembered. "You said you were going to f-fist me." Just saying the words made his stomach clench painfully. He had no doubt that John was right - that he'd fly - but it was going to _hurt_.

"Good boy. I guess I should reward you?" John teased lightly, even as his fingers busily twisted Rodney's nipple till he cried out. After a moment of that, he slipped a third finger inside, and Rodney groaned, long and low. The pain in his chest was less than nothing when compared to the pleasure washing through him at the slow, steady, thorough finger fuck.

John stroked him inside for just a moment, and then pulled his fingers free. Rodney whimpered, hips pressing up, all thoughts of dignity forgotten in his desperation to be filled again. There were the soft sounds of John applying more lube, and then the fingers were back, both on his nipple and in his ass. He sighed, relaxing into John's touch.

"Ronon's right. You're pretty like this. You're even prettier when you scream for me." John twisted his nipple again, and Rodney gave a small breathy cry. This time, John didn't let up, twisting it even harder, until Rodney made a noise that _wasn't_ a scream, but was damn close. John made a satisfied sound and finally released the abused nub of flesh.

Rodney's breath was coming hard, and he whimpered every time John's fingers brushed over his nipple. Some small part of his brain thought about how he must look - three fingers up his ass, spread over John's lap for him to play and touch however he wanted. John was getting something out of this - his cock was hard and pressed against Rodney's stomach - but all of his attention was on Rodney, and in return, Rodney was wantonly splayed out like a whore.

Then he felt the nudge of John's pinky against his hole, and he whimpered. He didn't want this, he didn't. He wanted John to finger him for just a few more minutes, and then maybe fuck him till he came. "Please, John, no. Fuck me instead? Ple- " But that finger pressed a little more forcefully, and then it slid in. Rodney whined, high and tight in his throat, and then dropped his head down to rest on the covers, feeling the cool material pressing into his cheek.

"It hurts, John. Can't take it. Please, stop?" But slowly, inexorably, John's fingers were sliding deeper, stretching Rodney in ways that he'd never taken before.

"Shh, Rodney. You can take it. Take it for me, just hush and take it."

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Rodney tried to relax. When he did, he felt a bright flare of pain, and John said conversationally, "I wish you could see this. You've got my hand all the way up to my thumb. It's beautiful, all stretched around my hand. It's going to be even more beautiful when you've taken it all."

John resumed the slow fuck, and Rodney gasped and shook. It would be easier if John was pressing on his prostate, but he had to be deliberately avoiding pressing on it at all, because there was no way it was accidental, the way that he wasn't hitting it.

Rodney wasn't thinking anymore, just feeling. He could have sworn that he could feel every knuckle of John's hand as he slid in deep, and every so often, fingers would brush over his nipple, which was so sensitive that the lightest brush made him gasp and groan.

When John's fingers slid out of him, he whimpered but held still. His body was John's, to play with as he wanted, and if John wanted him to feel this yearning emptiness, then he'd take it, the same way that he took everything else. Distantly, he could hear the sound of lube being opened and applied, and then there were fingers back at his hole, just dipping the tips in and out, quick and teasing.

"Ready?" John's voice was tight, harsh. It took Rodney a moment to realize that he was speaking, and another to understand that John was waiting for an answer. He nodded, unsure what he was agreeing to, but meaning it all the same.

Slowly, so very slowly, John's hand slid back in, and this time, he didn't stop, just kept pressing in. Rodney keened as he was stretched impossibly wide, and then he was full, so full. John groaned, and his hand flexed slightly. "You've done it. You've got my whole hand inside of you. I knew you could do it."

The keening had died off, but Rodney was vaguely aware that he was still making soft sounds, like an animal caught in a trap. He could feel it as John twisted his hand, and then there were, _oh, god_ knuckles pressing into his prostate. "Okay, Rodney. It's time to come for me."

That's all it took, and Rodney started to pulse over John's thigh. The orgasm was overwhelming, whiting out everything and leaving him a sodden, shaking mess. He was only vaguely aware as John slid out his hand. He panted hard, trying to get his eyes to focus.

"Gimme a m'nit," he slurred, stirring sluggishly to try and get off John's lap. "I'll take c're of you."

John laughed softly. "I don't think you're going to be taking care of anything, Rodney. But he helped Rodney shift, and stood up. Rather than dropping his shorts so that Rodney could do... something, about the hard-on tenting the front of his cut-offs, he simply and gently helped Rodney under the covers and tucked him in, kissing him gently on the forehead. "Sleep. I'll be here in the morning."

Between one breath and the next, Rodney dropped off.


End file.
